


Wild

by EyeInTheDark



Series: Angel and the Archer [4]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Between Seasons/Series, Canon Compliant?, Drabble and a Half, F/M, Fantasizing, Gap Filler, I Don't Even Know, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Season/Series 03, Pre-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-01-29 03:20:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12622000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyeInTheDark/pseuds/EyeInTheDark
Summary: It's not like he's never thought about it before.But entertaining thoughts and acting upon them are two entirely different things...





	Wild

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or any of the characters. All I own here is the writing/ofc.**

* * *

...It's not like he's never thought about it before.

But _entertaining_ thoughts and _acting_ upon them are two entirely different things.

Daryl's sex-drive has been nearly non-existent since the dead started walking. He hasn't touched himself intimately more than a handful of times in the past few months. There's never enough time or privacy for his liking, and the thought of literally getting caught with his pants down, whether by a walker or a member of his makeshift family, is colossally revolting.

An entire month has slipped by since the Woodbury residents moved in before he feels secure again; confident enough to find somewhere where he can be alone with himself without the fear of being caught in a compromising position.

The prison rooftop becomes his refuge, the shadow of the guard tower his sanctuary. His secret hideaway.

When he's alone, he imagines a girl with long, golden-blonde tresses and eyes the color of a winter skyline. She's the picture of deadly grace and beauty, like a lioness; the reigning queen of his fantasies. He imagines his lips on the delicate curve of Cheyenne's neck, teeth scraping gently over an exposed collarbone. He would bite and suck at that same spot until she wore a livid bruise there, growling the word _Mine_ as she whispered back _Yours_ in response, her hands in his hair, crushing him close.

He's come undone to that image more than once, hidden under a blanket of stars, shamelessly whispering her name into the dark.

Entertaining thoughts and acting upon them are two different things. Daryl knows his place. Cheyenne could never truly _want_ someone like him, he knows that. Excepts it. She deserves better. So he uses his imagination to compensate; gentles his touch, pretends that the hand on his prick isn't his. In his fantasies, Cheyenne looks up at him through long dark lashes, rosy pink lips curved into the faintest of smiles. She says things he'll never hear her say in reality. She tells him he's perfect, precious, and she loves him, flaws and all.

It's not like he's never thought about it before. So to say he's shocked when something actually happens is a complete understatement.

He's listened to Carol's slightly off-color jokes and teasing insinuations more than once since the farm, but it's never went any farther than that.

Cheyenne rarely jokes around. When she does, it's usually with the rest of the group present. So when it happens, he's completely blind-sided, as usual.

"Screw you!" he growls irritably to a fence-clinger trying to jam it's rotting hand through the chain link at him. There's been a buildup overnight, and they're trying to cut back on the walkers pushing against the fences.

Glenn and Maggie are to his left, Sasha and Karen to his right. Cheyenne is beside him. Her smile is illusive, but her eyes are as bright as the twinkling of a star as she moves closer, her shoulder brushing his arm.

"Maybe you should," she says, tone pitched low so only he can hear her. "I dare you," she whispers deviously.

Before he can react, she's gone, her back turned as she meanders along the fence line, joining Michonne some thirty feet down the line without so much as a glance over her shoulder.

His face is flaming as Carol approaches, a tin cup and a jug of water in her hands.

"You should go sit down for a minute," she admonishes, worry creasing her brow.

" 'm fine. Jus' hot," he growls, irritated and embarrassed all at once. "Real hot..." he mutters under his breath, his eyes wandering, following Cheyenne's every movement.


End file.
